


Prelude To A Shower

by awmperry



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Humour, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-24
Updated: 2010-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awmperry/pseuds/awmperry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ginny have a delightful evening in. Together. Alone. Things might get a tad messy.<br/>Not PWP, I promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude To A Shower

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short - very short - fic I wrote in about an hour, just for the fun of it. Really just an experiment in phrasing and tone. For a long time now, you see, I've been meaning to try my hand at writing a sex scene, mainly to annoy people who get upset about that sort of thing. But I've always ended up not trying, mainly because I suspect that I'd be really bad at it. Ah well. Here goes.
> 
> Reviews are very much appreciated - as is constructive criticism. Thanks for reading.

# 

**Prelude To A Shower**

  


* * *

  


"So you're coming round tonight, yeah?" Harry asked tentatively, though Ginny's dazzling smile reassured him a moment later.

"Couldn't keep me away with a long stick, Harry," she replied, as she ushered him out of her office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "But..."

"I think I might have one of them."

"_But_," she continued with a smile, "for now I've got to work." She kissed him hard, and then – "See you this evening." – the door was closed and she was gone.

Harry smiled to himself. Tonight was going to be a big step.

*      *      *

  


Harry looked up at Ginny, stretched out above him, clutching the rod in her hand, drawing it back and forth. Her hair was a mess, beads of sweat pearled on her skin, and something sticky was dribbled across her cheek. And, he thought, she'd never looked so beautiful.

She'd climbed onto him – a novel and tricky approach, he decided, but one that definitely had its rewards - less than five minutes ago, and he was approaching his limit. He grunted, the exertion taking its toll.

"Ginny," he grunted, "I'm going to..."

"No, Harry." She ruffled his hair with her spare hand and tightened her legs around him. "Don't let go... Harry, don't let go yet... right a bit... yes, that's better..."

He complied, moving beneath her to allow her better access. This was hard work.

Ginny lowered her gaze – and her hand – for a moment. Something squelched wetly. Then she resumed her motions.

He shuddered, his legs buckling. His hands clutched her hips for stability.

"Ginny, I can't..."

"A bit longer..."

"No... Ginny, you have to get off. Gi-"

He let himself sag slowly to the floor, and Ginny climbed off him.

"All right. I have a better idea."

*      *      *

  


A moment's contortions, and Ginny was once more above Harry; differently now, and they found their progress much easier and faster.

"See?" Ginny remarked, panting. "Much better." She turned to face away from Harry and, finding her intended target out of reach, leaned over to snag the pole again. Once again her hand started moving, back and forth, further and further.

"Ginny, are you sure you want to..."

"Ssssh, Harry, just be quiet and hold on," Ginny grinned, and leaned further over. "I know what I'm doing."

She leaned further still, stretching to reach...

...and the ladder shifted.

The pole fell to the floor.

The roller on the end of it bounced off Harry's forehead and left a blodge of magnolia paint over the fading remains of his scar.

"Ow!"

Harry stumbled, losing his grip.

The ladder shifted and continued shifting.

The next 1487 milliseconds were chaos.

Then, as the dust settled, Harry blinked. A yard to his right, he heard Ginny, in strangely sepulchral tones, swearing like a navvy.

"Ginny?" he asked hesitantly through the rubble. "Are you all right?"

"Bloody, sodding, buggering bloody bollock ladder!"

"Ah. You're okay, then?"

"Of course I'm not bloody okay! I've got a sodding paint tin on my bloody head!"

Harry eased himself up off the floor, the paint-encrusted windowframe brush he had landed on sticking to the back of his head like an Indian's feather. He looked at Ginny.

Sure enough, disentangling herself from the fallen ladder was Ginny – with a tin of Dulux Sunflower Symphony 5 dribbling its contents down the front of her shirt.

Harry scrambled to his feet and sprang to her side. Thirty seconds, two punches, four "OW"s and a _PLUNK_ later, the tin was off her head and she was glaring out at Harry from under the mask of yellow emulsion. Then her eyes drifted to the wall, and the ragged arc on the wall where the falling ladder had undone their work.

"All right," she sighed, "next time I won't try to do the whole wall without moving the ladder."

Harry grinned. "Ladder's definitely the way to go, though," he said. "Much better than sitting on my shoulders."

The congealing paint across her face split in a reluctant grin. "That had its own advantages, though."

"Still, that paint's going to be impossible to get out of your hair soon enough. Shower?"

She smeared the paint away from her eyes and nose, wiped her hands on her shirt and grinned broadly.

"I'll need help."


End file.
